Storm Conquered

by Magda Alexander

  “The man you picked up at the bar and invited to your room.”

  After I booked a room at The Majestic in Natal, I’d enjoyed a bath, dressed in one of my more revealing dresses with a peekaboo bodice and a slit up the side and headed down to the bar where several men had hit on me. All I wanted was oblivion. The three drinks and a night of pounding sex would give me that. So I invited one of them up to my room. Dark-haired, handsome, clean-looking. We’d stumbled to the elevator. Hamish shook his head and spoke into his phone. No doubt who he was reporting to. Jake. The only thing is he couldn’t get here this fast. Except, somehow, he had. “He’s gone.”

  Stepping into the room, he slams the door closed. “What did you do? Fuck as soon as you got through the door? Kicked him out when you were through with him. That’s record time, even for you.” His lip curls with distaste.

  I have it coming. I know. But the scorn in his eyes hurts all the same. Unable to see that censure, I walk to an open window and stare out toward the ocean, breathe in its clean, salty brine. Wish I could wash the dirt from me, the slime, the whole odiferous mess I’ve become. I clutch the curtain pull to anchor me, to have something to hold on to while I deal with the pain. “We didn’t fuck at all.” My voice wisps out toward the end.

  “You didn’t ... ?” He doesn’t finish his thought, but disappears into the bedroom, probably to verify the truth. He’ll be disappointed. There’s nothing to see. The place is spotless and the bed’s still made. Not that I need a bed to fuck a man. Seconds later, he strides back to me.

  I turn from him so he won’t see my blasted tears.

  “Why not?” His voice’s gone soft, caring. Damn him. Now he’s being kind?

  After the hell I’ve been through, his tenderness is too much for me. Gritting my teeth, I whip around and smack his chest. “Because he wasn’t you. Because he wasn’t bloody you.”

  He takes my pounding for a second or two and then he gently grabs my wrists. More than likely to calm me down, because I haven’t made a dent on him. “Brianna.”

  My breath hitches. I loathe it when he says my name all soft like that. Lost and in pain, I glare at him. “I hate you.”

  His lips curl at one corner, not with scorn, but with sympathy. His eyes crinkle, and a dimple pops up on his left cheek. Who knew he had that in him? “No, you don’t.”

  He pulls me toward him, and his mouth takes mine in a soft, tender kiss. But I don’t want tender. I want heat, passion, honesty. Curling my hand around his nape, I bite his lower lip. He stops kissing me and stares at me, a question in his eyes. He must have seen the hunger in mine because he picks me up by my arse, and, with my legs wrapped around him, strides to the bedroom while I nibble and nip his mouth. After he lays me on the bed, he rips off his shirt, frees a couple of buttons from his jeans.

  “Take off your dress.” His deep voice commands.

  But I’m not obeying. Not this time. “You do it.”

  “I’ll tear it if I do.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I do.”

  I shake my head, refusing to take it off. I want him to strip me.

  “You’re a stubborn witch, you know that.” Crotch zipper down, jeans slung low, a hint of his groin hairs peeking through, he’s yummy enough to eat. I want to sink my hand into that opening and capture the prize within.

  “Turn around.” His voice goes dark, feral.

  When I obey, he almost reverently lowers the zipper, kissing every inch as he reveals my skin. I moan from the pleasure of his warm mouth on me. I’d been so cold before he showed up, and now I’m burning up. He unsnaps my bra and gently pulls down the dress so it pools at my hips. His big hands caress my shoulder, his lips go to the nape of my neck and breathe me in. “You smell like an orchard, a juicy one, heavy with ripe fruit.”

  The words flow over me, healing my wounded soul. Who knew he had such lyrical poetry in him? Maybe that’s why he never talked before during sex. Because he was afraid of what he’d reveal.

  “Lift.”

  I do and he pulls the dress, sliding it completely off me. Rather than toss it, he walks to the closet and hangs it up, as careful with it as he’s being with me. When he returns, he stands by the foot of the bed taking me in. Only thing I’m wearing are my white lacey panties.

  Sliding into the bed alongside me, he scoots me up and eats at my lips, suckling them, nibbling them like he can’t get enough of me. I thread my hand through his shaggy cut. It’s longer than usual but not enough to please me. “You should let it grow.”

  The only answer I get is that newfound smile of his. The one that changes his whole face. I’d do anything to have him keep that smile, so I climb over him, kiss my way down his chest, nibble on his nipple, suckle it into my mouth and nip it. He groans. The bulge under his jeans is noticeably larger and there’s something I want to do. I go hunting for the treasure within and wrap my hand around his big, hard cock.

  He groans. “Brianna.”

  I come up right. “Jeans off.”

  He rises. Absentmindedly, his hand digs into his jeans pocket. When it comes up empty, a look of horror rolls over his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t bring condoms.”

  Not a problem. “What about those?” I nod toward the box of prophylactics on the night table, the ones I brought.

  “They won’t fit.”

  He’d said that once before, but that can’t be true, can it? “You sure?”

  “Yeah, unless I want to cut off the circulation to my cock.” His hand rakes through his hair. “We’ll need to return to the compound.” He turns and heads for the closet, probably to retrieve my dress.

  “No. We won’t.”

  He stops and turns around. “We have to.”

  “I haven’t been with anyone but you, Jake. And I always used protection. You’re clean. So am I. And I’m on the pill, so I can’t get pregnant. Come back to bed.”

  “You know me better than that. I don’t take unnecessary risks.” He pulls the dress from the closet holds it out to me. “Now put on your dress like a good little girl, and we’ll head out.”

  I jump off the bed, rip the dress from his hand and toss it over the chair. “I’m not little, and I was never a good girl.” If there’s something I’m great at it is sucking a man’s dick and he hasn’t experienced that yet. At least not with me. I drop to my knees, yank down his jeans, and take his big, thick, cock in my hands.

  He grunts when I do. “Goddamn it. Brianna.”

  When he pulls on my hair, I ignore the ache, ignore him as my tongue flicks up and down the head of his erection and I pump him down to his root.

  “You ... Aargh ... Fuuuuuuuuuck.” His eyes roll back in his head; his legs quiver from my assault.

  I’ve got him just where I want him. I can’t engulf him like I want to. He’s way too big for me. I relax the muscles in my mouth and take as much of him as I can.

  “What are you doing to me?”

  I want to feel him come against the back of my throat. So I clamp my hands on his ass, and he grunts. But he’s not fighting me anymore. On the contrary. Barely moving, he jerks in and out of my mouth, as if he’s enjoying it but does not want to choke me. I rake my teeth down his length, drawing a moan out of him.

  “God almighty, Sweetheart.”

  Even though it’s only the passion talking and not him, the endearment is like a punch to the gut. Don’t say such things to me, I want to cry out. Not when you don’t mean them. But there’s no time. His seed spurts from him. I swallow as much as I can while he groans and throws back his head. Some spills over my lips, down my chin, on my chest.

  Done with his passion, he picks me up and carries me to the mattress. The panties come off. He drives apart my thighs and sinks in. His tongue, teeth, mouth all go to work on me. He laps me up, like he’s a starving man and I’m his last meal. He inserts one finger into my sheath and curls it up. Blood zings through my veins when he hits the spot. “Aaargh.�
��

  He doesn’t stop, not even when I’m writhing on the bed from the pleasure he’s giving me. When my hips buck, he clamps down across my middle so he can continue to feast on me.

  Eager for the feel of his big, thick cock, I pull on his hair. “Jake, damn you. In me.”

  “Not yet.” He mumbles as he continues pleasuring me.

  As revved up as I am, it takes no time at all for me to climax. Yes. He’s that good.

  He props his head on his palm and enjoys my slide back to earth while brushing his fingers across my quivering belly. But I want more from him.

  “Fuck me, Jake.”

  He loses the smile I’m learning to love as his voice goes guttural, tortured. “We can’t.”

  “Yes, we can.” Sitting back on my heels, I take his nipple between my teeth and bite down on it. I love the salty taste to his skin with just a hint of spice from his body wash. I could nibble on his pecs for hours.

  He tangles a shaking hand through my curls, not to pull me away, but to urge me on. “God help me.”

  “I want to feel you against me, hold you within me. Please, Jake.”

  Rolling over, he opens my folds. “Are you sure you can’t get pregnant?” he asks.

  “Positive. Don’t worry. Last thing I want is an ankle biter running around.”

  He picks me up and turns me so I’m facing away from him. Sitting back on his legs, he slides his cock into me. He’s hard and big and thick. And has to work at it. But I love every second of it until he’s buried to the root. He grows bigger and harder. I clamp both hands on the headboard as he works inside of me. He holds on to me with one hand, while the other works my clit. I want to scratch him up but he’s behind me and I can’t get to him. He drives hard and true, and pounds, pounds, pounds into me until I can’t take it any more. With a scream, I come, and, seconds later, so does he. His sperm seeps out of me, wetting my thighs, damping the bed.

  He pulls out and collapses next to me on the pillow. Draping a massive arm over his eyes, he whispers. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  I yank down his arm so he can’t hide from me. “Damn you, Jake Cooper. You’re not leaving me again.”

  His lips split into a sad sort of smile. “No. Not this time, bright eyes.” He tangles one of those big hands of his through my curls.

  “Good, because I have plans for you tonight.” I lean down and playfully nip his pec.

  A shadow crosses over his eyes, but not for one second does he stop playing with my hair.

  Chapter 15

  ______________

  Jake

  AFTER THREE ROUNDS of raw, gritty sex, she lies warm and soft in my arms. In another fifteen minutes or so, the heat between us will rise again. But right now all I want is the truth. “What’s going on, Brianna? Why did you run?”

  Her playful mood ends and she sits up, her back to me, but I’m not about to lose the emotional connection I’ve fought so hard for. So I rest my hand against the small of her back to remind her I’m here and I care. When I do, she drops her head into her hands and breathes out a hard sigh.

  Sitting up, I curl a finger under her chin and turn her toward me. “Tell me, Brianna. I need to know.”

  Her eyes grow sad. “Yes, you do. It’s beyond time I told you. I can’t do this anymore by myself.”

  I drop a kiss on her forehead and urge her against me. I’ll be her strength, her guard, her rock, whatever she needs me to be. I rub her back reminding her it’s me, encouraging her to talk. We’re naked, as close as we’ve ever been, and yet it’s more a spiritual connection than anything else.

  “After my father’s funeral I arrived back in Brazil to find a note on my bed which claimed the sender held a member of my family hostage.”

  In my head, I run through each one of her siblings and the rest of her family as well. Storm’s in London, Elizabeth and Andrew in D.C. Royce is in Santa Maria. Edward’s at Winterleagh. Everyone’s accounted for. Could it be a distant relative? Only one way to find out. “Who?”

  She kicks back her head and gazes at me. The devastation on her face lances through me. “Edward’s child.”

  What the hell? “Edward doesn’t have a child.”

  “So I thought. Except ...” Her beautiful blue eyes swim with tears.

  When one rolls slowly down the satin of her cheek, I wipe it away. “Except.”

  “The boy looks just like Edward. Same dark hair. Same dark eyes.”

  “Lots of children in this part of the world possess those characteristics.”

  She nods. “I know. That’s why I had a DNA test done. The envelope included a lock of hair. All I needed was DNA from Edward. So I made up a story about creating a keepsake and asked Edward for a snip of his. I wrote Gabriel and Royce as well in case he checked with them. When I got Edward’s, I sent it to the same lab that analyzed the Countess’s and my DNA. The test concluded there was a 99.9% chance that Edward was the boy’s father.”

  Wanting to ease her agony, I drop a kiss on her lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t tell anyone. That was made very clear. If I did, they would torture and kill Edward’s son.”

  “So what did they want? Money?”

  “No. That would have been too easy. Gabe would have paid in an instant.”

  “Yes. He would have.” One thing about Storm, he values family above everything and he would never have allowed any child to suffer, especially Edward’s son.

  Restless now, she rises from the bed. Her strong legs stride up and down the bedroom’s cream-colored carpet, her eyes spark with emotion. What a beautiful picture she makes. “They told me they planned to sabotage the project and warned me to ignore their actions.”

  I force my mind back to the matter, and the pieces fall into place. “The break-ins at the warehouse.”

  She whirls and faces me. “Yes, of course. What else could it be? They ordered me to do nothing about them.” She’s practically vibrating like a tuning fork, so angry is she.

  “But you couldn’t stop Terrence from investigating.”

  “No, I couldn’t. When he did, he recommended we up the security budget and hire extra staff. I refused and told him it was just kids vandalizing the place and that it would stop.”

  “And when it didn’t, he went over your head and called Storm.”

  “Yes. Gabe called me, of course, probably wondering what the hell was going on. When I didn’t pick up the phone ... ”

  “He called me and asked me to fix things.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s been over a month. You could have found time to tell me. Why didn’t you?”

  She clamps her hands together, as if in a prayer. “I couldn’t take that chance, Jake. If I’d told anyone, especially you, they would have killed the child.”

  “So why are you telling me now?”

  She grabs her purse from the dresser and digs into its contents before she kneels on the bed holding a white envelope in a trembling hand. “Because of this.”

  I take the note from her, read the contents. “They want the project shut down in one week. Is that when the wind turbine is scheduled to be installed?”

  “Yes. Once it is, the Brazilian government will approve moving forward with the rest of the project. But if it fails, the project’s kaput. Their latest break in was supposed to destroy all the equipment necessary for the installation.”

  “But because I substituted counterfeit equipment and rerouted the real shipment to another port, they won’t get a chance to destroy it. The installation will proceed smoothly.”

  “And Edward’s child will die. I don’t even know his name.” Burrowing into my shoulder, she breaks down and sobs.

  My heart cracks wide open. I’ve never seen her like this, my proud, madcap girl. “Shhhh, it will be okay.”

  Her gaze finds me. Tears swim in the deep blue of her eyes. “How?”

  I take a close look at the picture. “I know where they’re ho
lding him.”

  Chapter 16

  ______________

  Brianna

  JAKE’S PLAN REQUIRES US to return to the Storm Industries’ compound, something I hate to do eager as I am to rescue Edward’s son. Withdrawing money from my bank account would raise flags, but we need cash for the rescue mission so Jake suggests I visit a shop in Natal and pawn the jewelry I have on me—a diamond and sapphire necklace and the ring I got from my father on my 21st birthday. It’ll break my heart to do such a thing, but I’ll do anything to get Edward’s son back alive.

  Before we head out, Jake tells Hamish he’ll take responsibility for my safety and orders him to return to the compound. Last thing we want is a witness to what we’re about to do. We leave our phones in our hotel room so we can’t be tracked. In case anyone’s following us, he drives around in circles with no set destination in mind. An hour later, we end up at a pawn shop. The amount of money we get is a pittance of what the jewelry is worth. But he assures me we got a good value for what I pawned. With the money, I buy a black wig and cheap clothes so I can blend in with the general population. The electronic equipment he buys, though, is top of the line.

  With the newly purchased satellite phone, he contacts Mac Taylor, the military buddy who arranged for the diversion of the equipment, and explains the situation. He’ll need Mac’s help to rescue the child, but first Mac will need to discuss it with his team. A couple of hours later, Mac calls back. His unit’s on board with the rescue mission. Even better, they have the necessary boat, weapons and ammo to make it happen.

  “Weapons and ammo?” The words set off a trembling within.

  “We can’t go on a rescue mission without weapons.”

  “What if Edward’s son gets hurt?”

  “We’re going to do everything possible to make sure he doesn’t.” He cradles me against him, drops a kiss on my head. “You’ll have to trust me, Brianna.”

  “I trust you, but I don’t know your friends, never mind the criminals holding the child hostage.”

  “My friends are ex-Navy Seals and Special Forces. They’re the best of the best, trained to carry out missions such as this. We could have no better group of men helping us.”